


don't know what i want (but i know how to get it)

by crooked



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-01
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crooked/pseuds/crooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius unexpectedly takes Remus on an unplanned excursion when the Marauders have a boys' day out in London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't know what i want (but i know how to get it)

**Author's Note:**

> [original post](http://crooked.livejournal.com/239079.html) @ livejournal.

It's 1976, and London is alive with rebellion. At least that's what it feels like to Remus as he and his mates walk through Soho, ambling along the seedy shops of Wardour Street. They stick out like a sore thumb, sixteen years old and gangly, looking as if they are better suited for tea with their aunts.

Well, all of them except Sirius.

Sirius looks like he stepped right out of any one of the clubs lining the block, a young Sid Vicious clone — only unexpectedly beautiful for a punk rocker. Of course he isn't a punk rocker, but no-one other than his mates would know it. His leather jacket is well-worn (with all the right charms and spells) and safety pins run a jagged line down one of the sleeves, covering his shirt emblazoned with an Anarchy symbol. His slim-fitted black denims disappear into a pair of mid-calf leather boots, with so many buckles and zippers that Remus wonders how long it takes him to put the bloody things on.

He wonders what Sirius is even doing with them period, looking as he does and the rest of them looking as they do. James' rugby shirt is lined with thick navy and red stripes, and he's got on a pair of deck shoes that are straight from someone's yacht; Peter's collared shirt looks as if his mum starched it just moments ago; and Remus' lightweight cardigan would not at all be out of place in a retirement home.

"You could've warned us, Padfoot," James grumbles, combing his fingers though his hair and then promptly shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

Sirius just shrugs and flashes James a grin. Remus watches it all, as James launches into a diatribe about Sirius looking like a bloody rock star while the rest of them look like a pack of knobs on holiday from Eton, but he mostly watches Sirius. He watches him because nothing fazes him or fades his cool smirk; he watches because Sirius never lets anything crack his cool exterior, not even his best mate calling him a fucking cunt of a twat.

Sirius just laughs it off. "Prongs, baby, I know Lily turned you down yet again, but that's no reason to take it out on me," he says, and James doesn't bother looking at him as he flashes him two fingers over his shoulder.

But he shuts up, and Remus marvels at the control Sirius seems to have over every situation. He watches him sidle up beside James, flash him an easy grin and slip am arm over his shoulders. James rolls his eyes, huffs, and returns the gesture, and Remus wonders how Sirius does it.

They walk like that for what seems like the entire day. Peter makes them stop off at a little pastry shop, getting an éclair for his mum because he'd promised. James and Sirius both salivate over a record store, one arguing with the other about which is the better album: The Beatles' _Revolver_ or The Kinks' _Face to Face_. (Peter and Remus turn to each other, agreeing in quiet tones that _The Who Sell Out_ is the best of all three.) After a stop for chip butties along Shaftesbury Avenue (none of them quite know when or how they ended up there), they eventually find themselves at Coventry Street.

"I'd better get this éclair to Mum," Peter says, stifling a yawn. He looks expectantly at the other three, and Remus knows he's hoping they don't continue the boys' day out without him.

James seems to read his mind as well, slinging an arm over his shoulders. "And so I'd better escort our fair lady Wormtail home," he says, grinning at Peter's scowl. "Or at least as far as his stop on the tube. Moony, you coming with?"

Remus hesitates and glances at Sirius, who seems to be uninterested in the entire conversation by the way he's examining the tip of his boot. "Yeah, sure, I guess—"

"Nah, Moony's coming with me," Sirius says, and Remus swings his head to look at him with a curious expression. It's news to him that they've plans of their own, but he swallows down the butterflies threatening to burst up from his stomach and out of his throat.

"What he said," Remus replies, and James seems satisfied enough.

He and Peter start to make their way toward the Piccadilly Circus station. "Get him home at a respectable hour, Black," James calls over his shoulder, and Remus glances over just in time to see Sirius grin.

He doesn't say anything at first, just nudging Remus' shoulder and jerking his head in the direction he apparently wants them to go. The sun is just getting ready to dip below the horizon, and the darkening sky is painted with broad streaks of gold, violet, and pink. There's a slight chill in the air, but Remus doesn't feel it the way he should. He's not sure if it's his cardigan or the fact that he's walking beside Sirius.

Actually, that's quite the lie. He knows it's precisely because he's walking beside Sirius, the two of them alone for the first time since they'd left Platform 9 ¾ for the summer holiday. It wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that Sirius had kissed Remus that day (hand curled at the back of Remus' neck, fingers pushing into his hair, lips soft and lingering against Remus' mouth) and then never mentioned it again, not in a single one of the owls sent back and forth between the two of them thus far. As if Remus already doesn't quite know what to expect from Sirius, this has just made it ten times worse.

Sirius, for his part, seems once again unfazed by it. He walks beside Remus mostly in silence, occasionally glancing over at him as they trek down Coventry Street toward Leicester Square, hands shoved into his pockets. Here or there, he says something — a witty remark or a question about something — but then it's back to walking in silence after Remus' titter of laughter or brief reply. Remus doesn't make conversation because the only thing he can possibly talk about is that bloody kiss, and he doesn't want to talk about that kiss (except for the fact that he _really, really_ does).

He doesn't, though, and the two of them wander into Leicester Square. Their feet seem to take them over to the statue of William Shakespeare, and Sirius hops up onto the rim of the fountain. Remus sits on one of the benches and watches him, as he always seems to do, as Sirius balances on the edge and walks a slow circle around the Bard. Sirius eventually hops off the statue and comes over to sit down next to Remus, and he laughs to himself at how ridiculous a pair they must make to passersby.

"What?" Sirius asks, and he's already grinning before he knows what Remus is laughing about.

"Nothing," Remus says, waving it off. "Just thinking how ridiculous we must look sitting next to one another."

Sirius studies him for a moment, and when Remus looks up he sees that his grin has faded. "I don't think we look the least bit ridiculous together."

Remus swallows, or at least attempts to. Did he imagine the emphasis Sirius put on the word 'together'? "When, er, you say together…"

"I mean together," Sirius answers, throwing one of his infuriating smirks Remus' way. "What do _you_ mean by together?"

Remus turns red, looking in the opposite direction so Sirius doesn't see. When he turns back, the other boy is up on his feet, walking away from him.

"Oi!" he calls after Sirius, jogging to catch up. "You tit! What the hell was that for?"

Sirius laughs, shrugging. "Promised Prongs I'd get you home at a decent hour, didn't I? Your mum will be sending the cavalry out for you soon."

Remus just falls into step beside Sirius as they head toward the underground. He's disappointed that the night is over, but he's more confused by trying to figure out just what the night has even been. Sirius is as maddeningly unhelpful as ever, saying nothing to Remus as they walk, so close their shoulders sometimes brush together. Remus wants to grab him and shake him and ask what the buggering hell he means by all of this, but he manages to muster up enough self-control to resist the urge.

They reach the station in what seems like seconds, and soon Remus finds himself feeling nervous again. Sirius stands in front of him, and he's just looking at Remus for reasons he can't even comprehend. He wishes Sirius weren't so bloody hard to read because then maybe he'd have seen it coming sooner as Sirius leans in, licking at his lips and eyeing Remus' mouth.

He rocks back on his heels a touch as their mouths slot easily together and Sirius feels it, reaching out to twist his fingers into Remus' sleeve, balancing him. Remus feels a flush erupt all over his skin: from the kiss, from the fact that there are surely dozens of eyes on them, from everything. He dares to open his eyes for a moment (though he has no idea when he closed them in the first place), and his breath catches in his throat. Sirius is so close he can see the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose from the summer sun, the inky black of his eyelashes fluttering against pale cheeks. He closes his eyes again, kissing Sirius back just as he pulls away.

Remus is a bit breathless and completely out of sorts, but he can't let history repeat itself. "I don't— What was that?"

"A kiss, Moony," Sirius says, and through his nonchalance Remus can see pink spread across his cheeks. "Has it really been that long?"

"No, I mean… Just. All of it. The ditching Peter and James for no reason and… and the walking and the— The _this_."

Sirius shrugs, and Remus thinks he's about to punch him right then and there if he tries any of his usual tricks. But he looks down, hands slipping back into his pockets, and the way his hair shadows his face breaks Remus' resolve a bit.

"I just wanted to walk around with you," Sirius replies, the sound of his train pulling up behind them interrupting the moment. He looks up again, and any trace of bashfulness is gone. His grin is back into place, crooked and arrogant at the edges. "And like I said, I don't think we're ridiculous together."

Remus watches as Sirius walks to the train, his own pulling up moments later on another track, heading in the opposite direction. "Are we?" he calls out, his heart somewhere between his throat and his stomach.

Sirius turns around, framed by the doors of the train. "Are we what?"

"Bloody fucking— _Together_, Sirius! Are we!?"

The grin on Sirius' face as the doors shut before he can reply is frustrating enough to make Remus want to scream, but then he notices the almost imperceptible nod as the train pulls away. He barely remembers to make it to his train before it pulls out of the station, his mind reeling.

Remus sits down in the hard, uncomfortable seat, but he doesn't even take notice. He has his answer, and even though Sirius is a git of the highest order for answering in the most roundabout way, it's the answer he wanted.


End file.
